FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

~ Midas stood coldly above the crackling skillet of formerly frozen hashbrowns and hot oil. The apartment was fairly close to silent, otherwise. She was alone with her thoughts as they seemed to keep looping back to the same conclusions. The same path laid out before her. Employment continued to elude her, stranding her out here in the strange city of people she didn't know. The gryphon sighed, and prodded at the potatoes with her spatula.

~ They were pretty much cooked. At least, they weren't frozen in the middle and some bits appeared to be hot. Apathy deemed this to be a sufficient amount of skilletry. She carefully transferred the pile of mush and crunch over to a plate, pulling the canister of seasoning off of the shelf above. One shake, then it was gone. She was out of seasoning, the canister finally empty, and even apathy could not salvage the plans to dinner.

~ Midas stared into the plate, the pieces of a conclusion so often dodged or discarded or simply put out of mind slowly accumulating. This was the end of the tracks. She'd been in a holding pattern for weeks now.

~ Resumes. Phone calls. Emails. Dinner.

~ Sleep. Wake up.

~ Resumes. Emails. Rejection. Dinner. Calm failure.

~ Sleep. Wake up.

~ Resumes. Phone calls. Rejection. Dinner. Tired failure.

~ Sleep. Wake up.

~ Rejection. Emails. Rejection. Phone calls. Crying. Dinner. Failure. Just, failure.

~ Sleep. Wake up.

~ The holding pattern was broken; the potato pile before her had barely qualified as a dinner when it could hope to become a flavored mush. Now it was simply the taste of slighty rancid oil and freezer burnt hashbrowns. Midas had verified these flavors. It was important to be certain of matters of fact, when coming to such conclusions. She dumped the potato slag into the trash, where it landed with a wet thunk. While the gryphon washed the dish and spatula, she carefully went down a mental list to make sure there wasn't anyone to write a letter to. No one came to mind who should or would care.

~ With the dish drying passively in the rack, she walked into the living room as silently as her feline paws could take her. It was as though she didn't even want to interrupt herself.

~ One more moment of consideration. There'd be a few more, but each was valuable. It was important to be certain of matters of hope and despair, when coming to such conclusions. She leaned down, reaching to open the drawer containing the pistol. She froze, motionless, at the interruption. There was a knock on her door. She thought she must be mistaken, when the knock repeated.

~ "Hey! Answer yer d'r. Don't m'ke me do my job any longer than I h've to, please.", called out whoever was in the hallway. She sounded like a bird of some sort, and Midas could swear she heard a gryphon's accent in the tone. It'd been so long since she'd seen another gryphon that this was well worth investigating.

~ Standing in Midas' hallway was a somewhat annoyed by definitely pleased gryphon decked out in some obscure pizza place's uniform. "Hey, we g't an extra p'zza since s'meone canc'led and the boss says I can't j'st throw them at all'y cats anym're. He thinks free samples are the way to dr'm up b'sness, so h're's a pie." She shoved it into Midas' hands, who found herself quite stunned with this turn of events. "If you l'ke it, keep the n'mber on t'p of the box. We'll give you m're, if you pr'omise to g've us money. Oh, and th's was in your mailb'x."

~ The gryphon who was wearing a uniform offered an envelope, held out in the air towards Midas. The gryphon who was wearing pajama pants and an old t-shirt remained motionless for a moment, before carefully place the pizza onto her couch. With her hands free, she replied, "Uh..hhuhh..?", accepting the envelope. It was somewhat beat up, and was brightly stamped with "MISDELIEVERED/REROUTE" in the deep red ink one commonly associates postmasters and their minons.

~ Midas stumbled away from the door, suddenly feeling nothing but numb. Time seemed to stop as she clumsily tore into the envelope. It was a job offer. She got that one job, at the place that seemed so nice over the phone and during the interview. They wanted her answer by the end of the week. She could call them tomorrow. Midas stammered somewhat, not forming anything approaching words as she turned to express her thanks. She had forgotten to check the mail, today. The pizza delvery person nodded, "You're welcome.", smiling as she turned to stride away down the hall.

~ When the front door resumed being closed the apartment fell silent again, and Midas was alone. Alone with the slowly accumulating smell of a fresh pizza. The smell of a delicious pizza and an aura of hope.